


City of Angels

by PsychicOtaku182



Category: The Crow (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychicOtaku182/pseuds/PsychicOtaku182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-write of The Crow: City of Angels. I wasn't happy with how it ended, so I went through with the movie, a copy of a script I found online, and my own ideas and re-wrote it, hopefully making it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One for Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> After several years of saying I would watch The Crow, I finally got the chance to sit down and watch both the original '94 movie as well as the sequel, City of Angels. I loved the first movie, but I felt the ending of the second movie sort of fell a little flat. So I found a script for it online and, movie close at hand (thank you, Netflix!) I went through and re-wrote it. 
> 
> Also! I made a playlist to go with it! http://8tracks.com/psychicotaku182/city-of-angels
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Crow graphic novel, the 1994 film The Crow, or it's sequel The Crow: City of Angels. Characters and dialog are not mine. The music in the playlist does not belong to me either!

**_I believe there's a place where the restless souls wander. Burdened by the weight of their own sadness, they wait for a chance to set the wrong things right. Only then can they be reunited with the ones they love. Sometimes, a crow shows them the way. Because sometimes, love is stronger than death._ **

“I’m sorry, Dad, I’m sorry….I didn’t mean to look.”

“It’s okay, Danny, it’s okay.”

“Lights!” A bright glare forced father and son to turn away, futilely trying to escape. “Camera! Action!”

“Flowers for the dead, Senor?” Another wild figure, Spidermonkey tucked a marigold behind Ashe’s ear. “No? Suit yourself!”

“Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo.Santificado sea tu nombre.Venga tu reino.” Danny’s prayer was soft, broken with sobs.

“You’re wasting your breath, Angelito! Nobody up there is listening” Spidermonkey laughed, his voice sing-song. Ashe clutched his son desperately trying to shield the boy as mocking laughter bursts from Spidermonkey’s lips.

“Let’s get this over with,” Another man called from his motorcycle, “Judah’s waiting.” The lone woman of the group glared at him, casually loading her gun. Judah gave the thumbs down.

“Dad,” Danny’s voice shook, “I’m scared.”

“I know.” Ashe murmured into his son’s hair, before turning to his captives. “Please, please, he’s just a boy. He can’t do any harm, he doesn’t even know who you are!”

The woman smirked, “Hush little baby, don’t say a word,” she sang, as she stalked closer while Ashe pleaded, “Kali’s gonna give you eternity.” She pulled the trigger, laughing as Ashe screamed in agony, his son’s dead body dragging him down.

“Nothing personal, sport. Guess you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” The man with motorcycle said, as he sauntered casually over to Ashe, before unloading his rounds into the man’s back. “Dump’em, and let’s get this cluster-fuck on the road.” He motioned to the others, then turned back to their victims. He shook his head before shoving them off the dock.“Bon voyage, shit-heads.”

* * *

 Sarah wasn’t sure what woke her, but she wasn’t complaining. Her dreams that night had been distorted, disturbing, and difficult to make sense of. There had been a bird, a bird she was familiar with, and a man she had worked on a tattoo for, his son sitting on the floor in front of the chair. She hadn’t seen them in a year, but that wasn’t surprising. People went missing every day in the City of Angels.

A sharp noise interrupted her thoughts. Dragging her eyes upwards, to the broken window in the roof, she saw a large crow, preening his glossy black feathers. Crows meant a lot more ever since Eric Draven had come back from the dead for revenge. She had been in Middle School at the time, and her mother, Anna “Darla” Thomas, had been strung out on morphine. Eric had fixed that, too, but she and Anna never did manage to have a closer relationship. Sarah had simply taken care of herself for too long.Albrecht, the cop who had been working on the Draven/Webster murder case, had taken care of her more than Anna had, even going so far as to take time off to drive her, and her three boxes of belongings, to Los Angeles when she decided to move to the City of Angels to become a tattoo artist. She called him once a month, just to let him know she hadn’t died.

She glanced over at the beat-up alarm clock lying on the floor next to the nest of pillows and blankets she slept in, before dragging herself out of bed. If she got ready now, she might have as long as an hour to work on her painting before she had to go into work.

“Morning Gabriel.” She murmured, scratching the old, fluffy white feline behind the ear as she crawled gracelessly out of her bed, padding quickly across the room to the shower.The building was an old warehouse, converted sloppily into a handful of apartments by some rich art kids who then abandoned it in favor of drugs. Sarah was the only resident of the building, and she was on her own when it came to broken windows and leaky plumbing. She stepped under the icy spray with a quiet curse before turning her face up towards the spray, eyes closed. There was a flash of something behind her eyes, like murky water and pollution, and heartache like she hadn’t felt since Shelly and Eric had died, and her eyes snapped open in shock.

The crow from earlier landed on Shelly’s old vanity with a hoarse cry. For a moment, she stared at it, the water pouring gently over the crow wings tattooed on her back before turning back to her shower. Whatever it was, she didn’t have time to go around jumping at shadows. She shut the water off, wrenching the knob as hard as she could to keep it from dripping, and got dressed, stopping by the refinished vanity to grab the tarnished engagement ring that Eric had given her after he and Shelly died. Gabriel meowed forlornly, glaring balefully at the large crow perched on the vanity, right above the Irony mask that hung on it. Some days, like today, it seemed like everything in Sarah’s life came back to Eric and Shelly and a crow.

* * *

 

“Almost finished.” Sarah murmured, adding ink to her needle, “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, it’s stings a little” Her client answered, shifting slightly in the worn-out dental chair as she moved back to her work.

“And that’s why they call me the Mistress of Pain.” Sarah joked, adding more shading to the design on his bald head.

“No, now see, love, there’s nothing I can do about that.” Noah, the owner of the Gray Gargoyle and fellow tattoo artist stood at the counter, looking over a tattoo. Sarah spared half a second to shoot a fond smile his way.

They locked up after the man had went on his way and Noah huffed. “What a downer! This kid wants me to tattoo “If you can read this, you’re standing too close” on her freaking bum! Can you believe that?”

“Well,” Sarah quipped as she finished cleaning her station for the night, “It beats pushing ink in Detroit.”

“Eh, you got that right, Princess. Oh!,” Noah started, “I bought you a present.” He said, pulling a brightly decorated sugar skull out of his pocket and tossing it to her. “They do them for the Day of the Dead. Nice, huh? Necrophagia, love. Eat the Dead.”

She caught it, pulling the fortune off the bottom. “Life is just a dream on the way to death. I like it.” She smiled, taking a bite.

Noah stretched, “Want to grab a beer?”

She shook her head, “Nah, I’m gonna go home, try to get some rest. I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.”

“So what’s the dirty dog’s name?” Noah asked slyly.

Sarah laughed, “No, no. Just, strange dreams, that’s all.” She paused, “You ever dream that you’re dying someone else’s death?”

Noah paused, “No, can’t say I have.” He looked around nervously, “Be careful where you say that, Princess. People with gifts like that….they have a way of going missing in the City of Angels.”

“Don’t worry,” Sarah gave him a sad smile, “I will be.”

He nodded nervously, and gave her a hug before they stepped out the door and headed in separate directions.

About halfway home, she saw a young girl huddled against the wall of an alley and couldn’t help but wonder if she looked so miserable and unloved the night Shelly Webster asked if she wanted to grab a bite to eat. Maybe that was why she stopped.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” She observed dryly, tearing one of the white packets with the cartoon imp that littered the ground to shreds with her fingers,

“No place else to go.” The girl mumbled, staring up at her suspiciously through her bangs.

Sarah nodded. “Gotta name?”

The girl hesitated a moment. “Grace.” She finally muttered, before getting defensive, “So what?”

“Listen, Grace,” Sarah asked, “You want to get a coffee and some food?”

“What do you want?” She bit out, harshly.

“Nothing.” Sarah said honestly, “Guess you just remind me of someone I used to know.”

Grace hesitated a moment, then nodded, allowing Sarah to help her to her feet and lead her around the corner to the little Mexican food truck parked next to the building.

They grabbed a couple of cheap burritos and Grace followed Sarah reluctantly to her warehouse apartment so they could eat in relative safety. Grace took in the eclectic mix of old and new that was scattered around Sarah’s apartment quietly. Thin strips of muslin served as curtains around the nest of pillows and blankets that served as Sarah’s bed, a small folding screen separated the bathroom from the rest of the apartment, a tattered, clear plastic shower curtain dangled from the pole that curved around the shower head. The kitchen area sat off to the side, nothing more than two cabinet,a small refrigerator, and a stove, a rough wooden table serving as both a counter to work on and a table to eat at. A long, deep sink sat next to it with a drying rack, holding dishes and paint brushes.

After a few moments, Grace broke the silence. “You said I reminded you of someone you knew?” She asked, taking another bite out of her burrito, eyes trained on Sarah curiously. Sarah nodded in reply. “So who was it?”

“Me.”: Sarah smiled at Grace’s surprised look. “ Yeah, back when I was a kid in Detroit, I used to find little holes to burrow into while my mother, “Darla” was out with her doped up boyfriends.”

“So what happened?” Grace didn’t seem to know whether to be angry or excited.

“Well, first, I met a photographer who lived in the area named Shelly Webster, and through her, I met her guitarist boyfriend, Eric Draven. They sort of took care of me for a year or so, before they died. After that, Officer Eric Albrecht sort of took over, in honor of Shelly’s last request. About a year after that, “Darla” decided to try and get her act together. Albrecht took care of us both, then. He got my mother a job as a receptionist at the precinct, and after his wife left him, he sort of moved us in with him.” She snorted, “Supposedly it was so he could take better care of me, but I think it was honestly because he couldn’t stand coming home to an empty apartment.”

Grace nodded. “My mom’s never coming back. She was taken up to the Tower and….” She trailed off, looking up at Sarah through her bangs. Sarah smiled sadly back at her, understanding.

“You’re welcome to stay here if you like.” She offered, already knowing what Grace would say.

“Maybe not all the time.” She answered softly. Sarah just smiled.

* * *

The dreams came back that night, waking Sarah before midnight. She huffed, grateful, in some ways, that Grace had chosen not to stay that night. It wouldn’t do for her to frighten the girl with her recent insomnia. The crow landed next to her bed, it’s head tilting from side to side curiously, wings fluffing out. It took flight and landed on the vanity, picking the Irony mask up before dropping it back on to the surface of the vanity with a harsh cry. Sarah got dressed, and ran to her car, only to find the bird perched on the hood ornament. It took flight as she started the engine, and she followed it, all the way to the docks.


	2. Original or Extra Crispy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case I forgot to mention it: Italics are flashbacks and Bold Italics are quotes from poems or literature

Ashe Craven and his son Danny were dead, and had been that way for a year. No one actually knew this for certain, outside of Judah’s gang, but the people who knew Ashe and his son knew there wasn’t really any other answer. Still, the quickest way to join the Craven’s in the Land of the Dead was to ask questions.

Ashe and his son had lived in a small garage, not far, though they didn’t know it, from Sarah Mohr’s warehouse. Danny’s mother, Maria, had left them when Danny was only a year old, choosing her drug habit over her husband and son. Like many in the City of Angels, she went up to the Tower, and never came back.

Beneath the surface of the water, Ashe and his son remained, suspended in the murky waters. Bubbles began to appear, seemingly from the dead-man’s mouth, his eyes darted back and forth under their closed lids, memories flashed : Danny, laying on his stomach in the garage, painting; father and son play-fighting, throwing water at each other; a bedtime story.

Dark eyes snapped open suddenly, confusion, pain, and terror swirling wildly in them, bubbles turning the world around him white as he thrashed, trying to escape the bonds that kept him and his son beneath the surface. With a silent howl, he broke free, emerging from the water with a pained cry of rage as Sarah pulled up.

Sarah watched silently as Ashe pulled himself up onto the dock, his fingers ghosting gently over the unmistakable bloodstain that marred the wood. Danny’s blood, and all at once, the memories overwhelmed him.

_“....I’m sorry, Dad, I’m sorry”_

_“You’re wasting your breath, angelito”_

_“Kali’s gonna give you eternity”_

_BANG!_

_“Nothing personal, sport.”_

It was too much, and he passed out, a shadowy figure watching him from the corner of his eye.

Sarah stepped closer, unsure what to do. He seemed to be unconscious. The crow, now perched on the dock, squawked at her. She glared at it, before half-dragging, half-carrying Ashe to her car. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Consciousness returned slowly. His skin was covered in silt, dry and brittle, it flaked off as he twitched. There was a fluffy white cat sitting next to his head, staring at him with it’s yellow eyes. He twisted, slightly, eyes finding a large black bird sitting on top of a vanity, next to a theater mask. He twisted a little further, and found the only other occupant of the room. She was slight, and familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where he’s seen her before. The crow let out a hoarse sounding cry, drawing her attention.

“You’re awake.” She said, putting down the paintbrush, and he sees the painting, of a woman, laid out, clasped in the arms of her dark lover, while vague shadowy figures look on.

“Who are you?” He asked, trying to place her.

“I’m Sarah.” She answered, and he remembered the tattoo on his ankle, and Danny, wide-eyed as he held onto the artist’s….onto Sarah’s every word. “ I had a dream about you,” she continued, “I saw them shoot you, and your son. I saw you drowning.”

Ashe closed his eyes a moment, as if pained, fingers tracing the scars from the bullets, slight indents against his skin. “How,” he grit out, “How did I survive?” He opened his eyes to see Sarah looking at him sadly.

“You didn’t.” She murmured, slowly moving closer. He stared at her, incomprehension in his eyes as she continued. “You’re dead.”

“No” He all but growled, standing quickly in his anger, almost furious as Sarah darts back sharply. She was frightened of him, and he’d never wanted a woman to be scared of him, but how dare she be afraid when he’s the one that just woke up to a crazy woman telling him that he’s dead when he very obviously isn’t. “Stop looking at me like that!” He snapped, eyes wild, “This isn’t real! None of this… I’m dreaming!”

“No…” she started to speak, but Ashe was already running, throwing himself out the door, running as fast as he could down the street, not noticing the bird that follows quickly behind him. He wasn’t far from home, he noted as he ran, and within moments he was pushing open the door to the little garage, yanking on the light as the door bangs against the wall. Everything looked the same. The same clunkers, the same bike, the same half-finished car. Danny’s paints were lying on the floor, and Ashe froze as he took in the cheerful painting lying there with them.

_“Look Dad!”_

_“Very nice. And who are those two?”_

_“That’s me, and that’s you.”_

_“Yeah? And what’s that thing in the corner there?”_

_“It’s a blue sun!”_

_Ashe laughs. “ A blue sun?”_

_Gunshots ring out in the alley, not far from them._

_“What’s that?” Danny asks, darting towards the door._

_“Danny no! Danny! come back!”_

_There are four of them, three men, and a woman, all standing around a body. One of them looks up as Ashe skids to a halt, arms wrapping around his son. He gives them a nasty grin._

_“See no evil”_

_And then it’s to the docks._

_“Dad, I’m scared.”_

_“I know.”_

_BANG!_

_“Nothing personal, sport….”_

It took a second for Ashe to realize that he’s on his knees there crying, that he’s knocked things over, broken things, and collapsed in tears.

“Why are you here?” He asked brokenly through his sobs as Sarah walked in.

“Because I want to help you. I need to help you.”

“Everything’s so confused.” Ashe whispered, anguish in his voice. “Danny…”

“He’s not here now.” Ashe flinched away from Sarah’s gentle murmur.

“There’s no moon.” He sobbed, as she pulled him into her arms gently.

“You’ve been given another chance, Ashe,” She murmured as she stroked his hair, “to put the wrong things right.” She reached out as he drew back, grabbing the white container of paint. “These were Danny’s paints, weren’t they?” she asked, taking some of the white paint in her hands and smoothing it over his face.

“You aren’t the first person to be given this chance. There have been others before you. I believe there have always been people like you. It’s the pain that brings people back. It’s makes us strong again.” She picked up the smallest brush, dipping it into the black paint, carefully painting down his forehead, down his cheeks, around his lips, and up from the corners of his mouth.

“You have seen this before.” He asked, the brush of her skin against his showing him a different face, in similar make-up. There were tears in her eyes as she looked at him.

“Yes.”

* * *

 In a city controlled by crime, where one man is in charge of the entire drug trade, it’s good for business if the drugs being pumped into the city are made….in house, so to speak.

CA-CHUNK, CA-CHUNK, CA-CHUNK…..

Envelope after little white envelope is stamped with Judah Earl’s grinning imp.

“Torro! Torro!”

“Torro!” Spidermonkey cackled madly, sniffing black powder off a marigold and watching as the drunken bull-fighter was gored on television, “Torro!”

THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

Loud, pounding noises came from the roof, like heavy footsteps. Spidermonkey’s head snapped up, eyes fixed on the rooftop windows.

“ ** _My mother was accursed the night she bore me_** ,” came a lilting, accented voice, “ ** _and I am faint with envy of all the dead_**.” The voice stopped and a dark, shadowy figure appeared against a roof-top window. It got bigger, and bigger, suddenly crashing through the window to land gracefully atop the large 50 gallon barrels of product.

“Who the fuck are you?” Spidermonkey growled, glaring at the black clad clown.

“Does the corpse have a familiar face?” The man responded jovially, grinning almost manically at him.

Spidermonkey let out a little shriek, darting into the maze of barrels, but the Crow was faster, dropping right in front of him.

_"Flowers for the dead, senor?"_

“We killed you!” Spidermonkey howled, “You’re dead! You and that little snot-nosed brat!”

“So sorry to disappoint you.” The Crow murmured, throwing him into the barrels.

_"You’re wasting your breath, angelito, Nobody up there is listening"_

“What are you?” Spidermonkey screamed, “What the fuck are you?”

“ I wasn't sure at first, but now I know.” The Crow laughed, chasing him through the barrels as he shouted,banging on them with wooden sticks “I'm the boiling man, Monkey. I'm the plague of Darkness and the death of the first-born. All your nightmares rolled into one! There’s no way out!” He howled, as Spidermonkey ran out into the open area where the product sat distilling on the table. The room was eerily silent. There was no sign of movement. Suddenly, the Crow dropped down behind him, hitting the two sticks together once, and then tossing them aside with a flourish as he grabbed Spidermonkey in an iron grip. He held him bent half over the table as he lit a match.

“Whoa! This shit’s flammable, man!” Spidermonkey stuttered, staring Death in the face.

“The others.” The Crow asked, tone conversational as he held the match suspended carelessly over the product, “Who are they?”

Spidermonkey swallowed hard. “Nemo, Kali, Curve, and Judah.”

The Crow smirked. “I’ll start with Nemo,” his conversational tone still in place, “And then work my way up the food chain, eh?” He growled, “Where is he?” He shouted, making Spidermonkey jump in fear.

“Nemo?” he asked, getting a pleasant nod in return, “Nemo’s an old pervert. He hangs out at the Peep-O-Rama on Deacon Street.”

The Crow smiled, blowing out the match, “Congratulations, Monkey!” He cried, spinning around with Spidermonkey as if dancing, before releasing him to crash into another barrel. “You just bought yourself a fighting chance!” His cheer was mocking, manic, and Spidermonkey watched in terror as the Crow reached into the pocket of his great black coat to pull out a deck of cards. He shuffled them carelessly, before fanning them out and holding them out towards Spidermonkey with a demented grin. “Pick a card, Monkey!” He said, steel underneath his pleasant tone.

With no small amount of terror, Spidermonkey reached out, pulling a card from the deck. The Crow shuffled them again, pulling out a card of his own with a flourish. Spidermonkey turned his card around, a terrified half-hopeful smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he revealed the Jack of Diamonds. The Crow grinned ferally,“Lady Luck’s” he quipped as he turned the card, revealing the King of Diamonds, “a bitch”

“Oh God, Jesus Christ.” Spidermonkey, murmured brokenly, dropping to his knees as the Crow lit a handful of matches. He smirked down at Spidermonkey nastily before rearranging his expression into a pleasantly conversational smile.

“You’re wasting your breath, angelito,” he parroted back to Spidermonkey, eyes bright with malice, “Nobody up there is listening.”

With a cheerful flourish, he carelessly tossed the matches into the product as Spidermonkey began to sob in fear. The product burst quickly into flames, before exploding into an inferno, taking Spidermonkey up with it, even as it blew out the windows and caved in the roof. The Crow walked out of the building, unharmed, with a sweep of his great black coat, pausing a moment to glance at carnage around him with a grin. The palm trees next to the building went up in flames as the crow flew by while Ashe got on his bike and rode back to Sarah’s, a malicious grin on his face.

Not five minutes later, Curve pulled up to the burning warehouse on his motorcycle, all rockstar hair and grungy leather. He lit a cigarette, and paused, taking in the glittering shards of glass in front of the building, arranged in the shape of a crow….just like the tattoo he’d gotten at the Gray Gargoyle.

* * *

The Tower of Judah Earl was part cage, part palace. People who entered the Tower never left it again...or rather, they were never seen leaving it alive again, but people whispered of long, strangely shaped packages wrapped in dark cloth being carried out in the dead of night. Most people who entered it, entered it willingly, already drunk, and drugged, and desperate for the next fix that Judah could provide. Sybil was not one of these people. Once, Sybil had been a happy, healthy young woman, working hard as a waitress to support herself and her daughter, Grace, while her husband was supposedly working long hours in a factory for the same reason. The beginning of the end had come so quietly, just a feeling here and there, that something would happen, a dream that Sybil, having never truly gotten rid of her superstitiousness, would take to heart, always to good effect. She was careful though, to hide it. People with gifts like that went missing in Judah Earl’s City of Angels. Her husband, however, was not so careful.

_“Be careful.”_

That was the last thing she’d ever said to her husband, as he left for work, never to return. The visions became harder and harder to live with. Perhaps, if she had just said something to him, told him about her dream, about her visions, but even telling family was dangerous in Judah Earl’s city. She turned to Judah’s foul black powder, hoping to dull her Sight, but that only made it worse. Finally, in a fit of terror and desperation, unknowingly in full view of the very man she was trying to hide from, she carved out her own eyes...but the visions didn’t stop. The visions were now the only thing she could see, and the Tower was now her prison.

It was Judah Earl’s prison as well, in a way. He locked himself in his tower, draped in gold silk and gazing out on the city through a magic portal that shifted with the slightest of thoughts, showing him anything and everything that was happening at that moment on the streets where the light could touch. At the moment, though, Judah’s eyes were turned inside the tower.

“We all have our pleasures,” he purred, “For some, it’s the flesh, and we provide for them. For other’s, it’s the drugs, and we provide for them too. Our products feed this entire city. While other kingdoms fall around us, we’ve succeeded by being of a single mind.”

“Succeeded with guidance from a darker world, Judah.” Sybil hissed.

“Do you love me, Sybil?” He purred, tilting her chin up towards him.

Sybil chuckled darkly.“All must love you.”

“Really?” He murmured darkly, turning a dark look onto a man in gaudy patterned suit, “Then why did the sad-eyed sack of shit betray me?”

“Hey!” The guy stammered, “I didn’t betray you, Judah, I-I did it for the business. I mean, this last...batch of yours, it was...bad! It was a hot mix.” He gestured wildly. Nemo zoomed in with his camera “ I mean, Jesus Christ, Judah, it was giving him seizures! Whoa, get away,” He flailed, pushing Nemo back, “Hey, Judah, your brand, it should inspire trust, right? I mean, come on, we can’t kill off all the motherfuckers!” He laughed, nervously, “I mean, hey, there’d be no one left to buy this shit.”

“So you destroyed 80 keys of Product without my consent.” Judah rumbled darkly like a thundercloud, mixing an envelope of product in a small brass cauldron and filling a needle with it.

“Hey, get the fuck away from me!” The guy snapped, pushing Nemo back again. “Look at this Judah,” he whimpered, “ You are surrounded by these fucking freaks, I mean, you don’t even leave this fun house any more. I mean, you have no idea what the shit is doing to people out on the streets man. I mean, it could ruin your fix with the cops man, I’m not bullshitting, I mean, I mean it’s bad for business, huh.”

“Alright then.” Judah purred, “Let’s see how bad this batch of our’s really is.”

The man was grabbed and cuffed down, half on top of the altar where one of the many human Toys were bound. “Hey, hey what the fuck is going on?” He cried, eyes wild with fear.

“We’re volunteering you for a little quality control.” Judah answered, stalking forward like a panther with the needle.

“Oh, Jesus, I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” the man jibbered. Judah smirked darkly.

“But you are, Bastard.” He purred, “Weren’t you listening? I said we all have our pleasures. Mine is the pain of others.”

The man screamed in pain as the drug was injected up into his brain.

“I guess you were right, Bastard,” Judah murmured, “That was a bad batch. Talk to me, Sybil,” He rumbled. “Tell me what you see.”

She turned inwards, searching the web of Fate. “I see Death returning from beyond the Veil of Tears. He has your name on his tongue.”

Judah nodded, though she couldn’t see. “It’s finally beginning, isn’t it? What mask will Death wear, can you tell me?”

Sybil turned deeper into herself, seeking darker string on the web of Fate. “I see the face of one of your victims.”

Judah smirked, “All my sins remembered.” Sybil knew that he stood behind her, the room before her occupied by Toys in masks that were as blind as she was, and she smirked as well. She may not strike the final blow, but Fate had told her that she would lead Judah to his executioner, and that was more than enough to satisfy her.


	3. You'll Shoot Your Eye Out

The Tower was a den of the worst forms of depravity, including the sexual, and Judah, particularly, enjoyed watching the Toys play with each other, torturing each other with pain and pleasure in turn, their faces hidden by zip-up masks of leather and PVC. He watched through the lens of the video camera as his Toys played. Curve shook his head, stepping forward out of the shadows.

“I’ve got bad news.” He said, as Judah looked up at him.

“Illuminate me.”

“Someone torched the lab on Manchester.” He said, hugging his jacket close over his tattoo, “Spidermonkey’s a fucking Crispy Critter.”

“Monkey I couldn’t care less about.” Judah rumbled, “What about our merchandise?”

“A total loss.” Curve said.

“He left a sign, didn’t he?” Sybil murmured, approaching him, hand out-stretched towards him.

Curve shifted uncomfortably, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. You’ve seen it.” She stretched out towards his chest, “You’ve been marked.”

“Jesus Christ, Judah,” Curve spat, “Why the fuck do you listen to this crone?”

Judah smirked, “Because she speaks the truth.” He said, standing quickly and grabbing Curve’s jacket, forcing him to open it, revealing the tattoo. “What’s this,Curve? A beauty mark?"

“Your enemy wears the mask of the Crow. The bird of ill-omen.” Sybil hissed, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“The Crow. Death’s avatar. I’ve heard the legends.” Judah smirked as he looked down at the portal. “Let him come then.”

* * *

Ashe slipped into the apartment silently, not wanting to disturb Sarah any more than he already had. She was kind enough not to say it, but he could only imagine how much sleep she had lost because she’d dreamt of his....passing. She had told him, though, that he was to come back to her apartment after he’d finished his work for the night. Tomorrow, he would go out again, this time taking Nemo out. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl.

“Stop brooding.” Sarah murmured, causing him to whip around. “Go to sleep, it can’t hurt anything.” She patted one of the pillows in her nest as an offer, before burrowing further into her bed and closing her tired eyes.

Ashe hesitated a moment. He wasn’t very tired, really, and all that aside, he hadn’t been an ideal roommate tonight. He’d frightened her, ran through a bad neighborhood causing her to chase after him, broken down in uncontrollable sobs, and then ran off to torment, terrorize, and kill a man. However much Spidermonkey had deserved his fate (and make no mistake, he deserved it), he, Ashe, had still brutally killed a man. Sarah didn’t seem to care though, and with a shrug, he pulled off his boots, coat, and vest, washing the paint off his face before sliding into the nest next to her, though not so close as to touch her.

He really wasn’t tired, so he studied his….friend, curiously as she slept. He wondered if it was possible to fall-in-love with someone at second, no, third sight, and after dying. They had met before, at the Gray Gargoyle. She had done a tattoo of four crows sitting on a wire on his ankle. Danny had sat on the floor in front of him, listening with rapt attention as she told him various stories about crows, and their cousins, the raven. He had found her attractive then, of course, he wasn’t blind, but Danny had already lost two maternal figures, and Ashe wasn’t willing to risk it just then. Two months later, he and Danny were dead at the bottom of the river. He stifled the urge to snort at the thought. He’d never regretted decisions in his life before. Not even when Maria abandoned him and Danny.

His mother, Lily, had cried for them, that day when Ashe sat holding one-year old Danny close.

_“If only you had known!” She’d cried._

_“It wouldn’t have mattered, Mama.” He murmured, shifting in his seat as he stared down at his sleeping son. “I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I love my son.”_

She had cried even harder after he’d said that, and insisted on moving in with them to help take care of Danny. He was grateful that he had told her how much that had meant to him before she had passed.

The sun began to turn the sky pink, and with the increased light, Ashe could see a few things he had missed the time before. The Irony mask on the vanity bore the exact same make-up as the previous Crow that Sarah had known, a tarnish ring dangled on a chain next to the mask, and she had hung Danny’s painting, marred by his own muddy boot print, on the tiny refrigerator that she had.

Well, he figured, getting up, I might as well make myself useful, if I’m going to stay.

* * *

“ ** _And all the world will be in love with night._** ” Sarah murmured, sketching familiar features onto a sketch pad, before closing the book. “Noah, do you believe in fate?” She asked, turning towards her friend.

“Seems to me, love, it’s more a question of fate believing in you.” He replied, wiping down the counter.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Someone pounded roughly on the door. “We’re closed!” Noah shouted.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Open the fucking door!”

“I said we’re fucking clos-” The door slammed open, bouncing against the wall as Curve stormed in, his fist connecting solidly with Noah’s nose before snorting Judah’s drug straight out of the envelope. Sarah pushed him away from Noah, but he grabbed her.

“You think this is fucking funny? Think this was some kind of joke?” He growled as they grappled.

“Don’t touch me! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He released her for a second to show his chest.

“I’m talking about this fucking tattoo you gave me. Look at this shit!”

She looked at it, the two stylized demons engaged in battle had somehow morphed into a crow made of sharp black slashes.

“It’s a crow.”

“You’re goddamn right it’s a crow!” Curve growled, “Did I ask you for a fucking bird on my chest? Did I?”

“I was just going from the fucking design that you gave me!”

“Stop it!” Noah shouted, getting to his feet as Curve caught Sarah in a headlock. Curve gave him a nasty smirk, pulling an automatic out of his waistband.

“Oh! well,” He placed the gun under Noah’s nose, “What’s it gonna be, hero? Ready to kiss your ass goodbye?” He kissed him on the man’s nose with a manic grin, “I think you’re shitting yourself you’re so goddamn ready.”

“Fuck you!” Sarah growled, slipping out of the headlock and ramming her knee into his groin. Curve dropped the gun as he hit the floor with a moan. She scooped it up and pointed it at him. “You fucking piece of shit! Get up.”

Curve grinned lecherously, sticking his finger in his mouth obscenely. He got up, and swaggered closer, until he was almost touching the barrel.

“I’ll be seeing you, sugarplum.” He purred, watching the gun shake in Sarah’s hands. He turned, spitting on the floor before he stepped away, tweaking Noah’s nose as he passed. At the door he paused, grabbed an old broom handle that sat by the door, and shattered the bottom part of the neon sign by the door with a nasty smirk before walking out the door and shutting it behind him with a bang. Sarah kept the gun aimed at the door until the sound of his motorcycle disappeared.When the last echo of the motor had faded, she turned away from the door, curling in on herself slightly, before turning back to Noah.

“You okay?” She asked softly.

He nodded, then shrugged, “Well, fuck me, what are they gonna be snorting next?” He grumbled as she moved closer.

“I can’t take this anymore.” She murmured, as he pulled her into a hug.

“Don’t worry, love, everything will work itself out.”

* * *

Nemo was a pervert. He was trying for a Clockwork Orange vibe, with his spiky wig and the drawn on lashes under one eye, but he was so old and putrid that the look fell more than a little short. He had been coming to the same Peep-O-Rama for two years now. It had once been an old Japanese movie house, and it still had the Geisha painted on the wall, though she had….suffered some, being in that neighborhood. He smirked as he straightened his wig and got out of his car, the kids on Deacon Street were certainly good at turning prissy art-work into something delightfully vulgar. The neon signs advertising the cost and the goods cast his face in red light and purple shadows.

“Tokens for the buddy booths, live girls!” the voice of the old Indian in the front kiosk blared over the speakers as he swaggered in. He handed the guy in charge a bill, receiving his tokens in exchange. He staggered into the booth, excitement and the drug in system making it hard for him to move with any real effectiveness. He pulled off the leather guard he wore over his pants, sliding a token in the slot and then pounding on the plate to make it drop, before dropping into the filthy leather chair. The shade rolled up slowly, the lights inside coming on as it did, to reveal a waifish blonde in a thin, sheer white dress.

“You got a name?” He growled through the phone connecting them.

“Holly Daze.”She purred, with a smirk, dead eyes hidden by the glare of the lights. “You want me baby?” She asked, sliding the straps off her shoulders.

He panted, moaning quietly, “I want to see some sugar.”

“Some sugar?” She smirked, abandoning the top part of her dress around her waist as she spread her legs.

“Right on, sister” Nemo panted, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock.

“Is all that for me?” She panted, going through the same old script again.

“Oh yeah, baby,we’re gonna celebrate Christmas a little early this year.” He growled.

She faked a laugh at his joke, giving a tired moan, “You keep doing that, baby, you’re gonna go blind.” She moaned, A+ acting as she faked it, Nemo moaning and squeaking on the other side of the plexiglass. The shade started to roll down. “Time’s almost up, lover! Better hurry with those tokens.” she said, as the shade cut them off.

“Oh shit.” Nemo huffed, practically falling out of the chair, fumbling and cursing as he tried to put another coin in. “Come on, fucker, come on, fucker.” he snarled under his breath as the coin finally dropped, the shade rolling slowly up. He dropped back into the seat, trying to look like he hadn’t just imitated a beached whale. He got back into his position, leaned back in the seat and ready, but it wasn’t Holly Daze on the other side of the plexiglass any more.

The Crow sat, jacket shrugged down his arms, legs spread slightly, “Do you want me,” he growled with a nasty smirk, “baby?” Nemo froze, staring at the familiar face, covered in make-up.

“You…” He rasped, pointing at the Crow.

“Me.” He shrugged the jacket back up, and dove through the plexiglass, the momentum carrying them both through the paper thin door into the hallway beyond.

“Hey, Mime-boy!” The manager of the place shouted, dragging the Crow’s attention to him as he fired a round from a sawed-off shotgun into his chest. He curled in on himself a moment, before straightening up, and stalking towards the manager.

**_“One crow, sorrow. Two crows, joy._** ” He chanted, grabbing the barrel of the shotgun and ramming the butt-end into the manager’s face, sending him into a video display, dumping a waterfall of shitty pornos on his head. “ ** _Three crows_** ,” he turned as Nemo tried to run through the beaded curtain, blowing out one of the man’s knee caps and dumping him face first into the lap of a blow-up doll as he cheered, “ ** _A letter!_** ” Nemo flailed, humping against the doll as he tried to get his legs under him so he could run. The Crow stalked forward, grabbing him by the back of the leather jacket and turning him over. “ ** _Four crows….a boy_**.” He breathed.

_“Please, let him go, he’s just a child.”_

The Crow dragged him up off the ground, slamming him face first into a glass ornament on the counter, then into another door, then into the front counter, dropping him onto the floor. Nemo tried to drag his body away from the mad-man who was taking his coat off. “ ** _Five crows, silver. Six crows, Gold!_** ” The Crow beat him with the long jacket, as if it’s a heavy whip. “ ** _Seven crows, a secret! Never to be told!_** ” He bellowed, dropping the coat and grabbing Nemo again. “Look at me, Nemo!” He snarled.

_“Lights, Camera, Action!”_

“Look at me! You killed my son, Nemo! You took away the only piece of life left in my soul!”

“We had to!” Nemo sobbed, “We had to! We didn’t have any choice! Judah’s orders, “Never leave any witnesses”. We didn’t have any choice!”

“We always have a choice.” The Crow hissed, “Lights, Camera, Action!” he said as he pushed his fingers into Nemo’s eyes and ended his life.

Holly Daze skid to a halt with a yelp, as the Crow whipped around.

“No, no, please, don’t hurt me.” She cringed back as he grabbed her, hands firm, but surprisingly gentle, after all that has happened. The expression on his face was gentle as he touched her face lightly.

_Cat-calls and leers, old men with sweaty hands._

_“Come sit on my face, darling!”_

_Dirty, feeling dirty, like she’ll never be clean._

“You are not dirty.” He murmured, cupping her face in his hands, his eyes boring into her soul. “They are the dirty ones. It is not you.” Gently, he brushes her hair back, “If you value what you have lost, walk away from here, and never look back.”

She nodded, tears and conviction in her eyes. He gave her a gentle smile as he let go, and she smiled back before bolting out of the Peep-O-Rama.

* * *

Kali arrived with a gang of Judah’s henchmen, the ones who called her Mistress when they were up in the Tower. Zeke had called as soon as he had came to, saying that there had been an attack on the Peep-O-Rama and Nemo was dead. She stood casually by the kiosk, the old Indian inside still repeating “Tokens for the buddy booths, live girls” over and over, as Curve pulled up on his Motorcycle before heading inside. Curve loped in behind, in his casual manner. Girls ran out in fright, the men leering at them as they darted by. Curve found Kali standing next to the broken door of one of the booths, a bored look on her face. She sneered at him in disdain before walking back toward the front.

“Holy fuck.” Curve stepped into the booth with a low curse. Nemo sat in the Peep-girls chair, a blow-up doll in between his legs. He head was bent awkwardly to the side, his bloodied scarf wrapped tight around his neck, rivulets of blood trailing down in face like spiderwebs from the bloody holes where his eyes used to be. There was something in his mouth, and with a brief cringe, Curve pulled it out. It was a black origami bird, a crow, and Curve swallowed hard as the phone next to him rang. He stared at it for a moment, as if it was a snake, before picking it up.

“Do you know what they call a gathering of crows….Curve?” The voice of the other end rasped, “A murder. A murder of crows. Think about it.”

The line went dead. Curve stood still a moment, before grabbing the phone and ripping it off the wall.


	4. Screaming Metal Death Trap

Ashe placed the receiver back on the cradle, his head snapping up at the sound of children shrieking with laughter, running down the street in their costumes. He smiled slightly, stepping out of the pay-phone and walking down the road towards Sarah’s apartment. There were candles in the windows of the building he walked next to, a dog sitting outside with a skull mask on top of it’s head, and he realised that it was a Catholic church as he stepped inside, his curiosity getting the best of him. There were marigold petals covering the aisle of the church and the altar was lavishly decorated with flowers and skeletons. People were kneeling in the pews, and one lone old woman knelt at the altar, dressed in black, with tears on her face.

“ Can I help you?” The priest moved towards Ashe, cautiously, and he remembered that he was still wearing the makeup of the Crow.

“I’m sorry, Father.” He murmured, “I-I was just watching.”

The priest smiled, hearing his hesitance. “It’s alright. Our doors are open.”

Ashe nodded, watching the old woman place a toy motorcycle in front of a picture of a young boy. “I hadn’t realised it was already Dia de los Muertos.” He murmured.

The priest nodded, “Yes, it seems the time goes by faster and faster every year.”

“Sante Muerte.” Ashe turned towards the frail voice to find the old woman looking at him. “Sante Muerte.” She repeated, pointing at him. The priest gave him a curious look, before moving to comfort the woman. Ashe took that as his cue to leave, and slid back out the door, into the night.

* * *

“Ashe.” Sarah called out, cheerfully from where she sat at the scarred wooden table with a young girl, “This is Grace. She’s joining us for dinner tonight.”

Grace nodded and waved, skittish, and Ashe’s heart ached for her.

“And what is for dinner tonight?” He asked pleasantly, grateful he had the foresight to wash the paint off before he came back.

“Enchiladas. I hope you don’t mind, but Grace and I have been stopping at the same food truck, and I figured, why mess with a good thing?”

He smiled, “An excellent point.” he murmured, sitting down across from Sarah and accepting his plate from her. “Mmm, it smells fantastic. Tell me, Grace, do you like magic tricks?” She nodded warily and he grinned, pulling a small, folded paper flower out of his pocket. “Well,” he murmured, flicking his finger just so, and setting the flower on fire, like a purple firework held in his hand. Grace gasped and smiled, leaning forward.

“How did you do that?” She asked breathlessly.

He grinned slyly, “Magic. Now, go on,” he said, as it burned out to ashes in his palm, “Blow on it. Make a wish, like birthday candles.”

She looked at Sarah, who nodded with a smile, and blew on the little pile of ash, sending it swirling away from Ashe’s palm. Sarah clapped her hands.

“Ah,” He smiled as he sat back, turning to his food, “That was well done.”

* * *

High above the city in the Tower, Judah sat on his throne, watching the death of Ashe and Danny on the video Nemo had made that night.

“It was him.” Curve snarled, “It was the son of a bitch we dumped off the pier. I know it.”

Kali leaned against the wall, a smirk on her face.

“I thought you killed him.” Judah rumbled, amused.

“I fucking unloaded a gun in him!” Curve shouted, flicking open an envelope and snorting the drug straight out of the packet.

“He’s a ghost, then.” Kali mused.

“No such fucking thing as ghosts.” Curve snarled.

She smirked, “Then who killed Spidermonkey and Nemo?”

Curve growled, and started pacing. “I don’t know. All I know is that he’s fucking with us. The crow’s his symbol, right? That means I’m fucking marked. It means he’s coming for me.”

“ I thought you said you didn’t believe?” Kali needled. Curve spun, hand raised to slap her, only to back off with a growl as one of her blades flashed out of their sheath.

“Look,” He swallowed, gathering his bravado, “you want to tell yourselves some fucking bullshit fairytales, that’s your business. But I’m not gonna sit here with a fucking target on my chest! I’m gonna go take this motherfucker out!”

“You won’t stop him with bullets or knives. He doesn’t feel pain.” Sybil hissed, gliding out of the shadows near Judah’s throne. “He doesn’t bleed. Don’t you see? His soul has crossed over. He’s come back from the other side.”

“So how do you stop a man who’s already dead?” Judah asked.

“Can you look destiny in the eye without flinching?”

“You tell me.” He rumbled.

She smirked, “The crow is his source of power- his link between this world and the next. Sever that link, and he’s as vulnerable as the next man."

“So, the crow is the source of his power.” Judah purred, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Can his power be taken?”

“The bird is the key, the life-force that flows within it….”

Judah nodded, “The blood of the crow.” He spun back to Curve, “That tattoo on your chest, who gave it to you?”

Curve shrugged, “Some bitch at the Gargoyle, but what’s that got to do…”

“Everything, you idiot!” Judah thundered, “Find her! If she gave you his mark, then she’s connected to him in some way. She can lead us to him.”

* * *

“Interesting painting.” Sarah jumped slightly at the sound of Ashe’s voice. “Sorry,” he murmured, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She shook her head. “You just startled me. You were so quiet I’d almost forgotten that you were there.” He smirked slightly as he looked at the knick-knacks on the vanity.

“She reminds me of you.” he said, nodding towards the painting she was working on, of the woman laid out in her lover’s arms, ghostly figure looking on.

“I paint what I see.” She replied. She laughed, “I know I told you to come back, but I was actually surprised that you did.”

“Heaven wouldn’t have me and Hell was afraid I’d take the place over.” He quipped, making her laugh. “I needed to see you again. Needed to know I wasn’t crazy.” She smiled sadly at him. He pointed to Shelly’s ring, “Were you married?” He asked.

She shook her head, “It belonged to a friend.”

“Where are they are?”

“A better place. What about you?”

He sighed, “Danny’s mother left about a year after he was born. She started doing drugs and then one day, she packed everything she could carry and left us.”

“I’m sorry.” Sarah murmured. “I suppose I was one of the lucky ones. My mother eventually came back.”

“Small world.” She smiled slightly at his dark humor.

“I left Detroit because I wanted to put the past behind me. The problem is, I know how it ends. Blood, violence. I don’t want to be a part of it any more.”

Ashe looked up at her as he ran his hand down Gabriel’s back. “What happens when I finish what I’m supposed to do here?” He asked.

“You go back.”

“What if I don’t want to go back?”

She turned back to the canvas. “Then you’re damned.”

* * *

Noah had never wished that he had stayed in Detroit before, but sitting, duck-taped, to a battered dentist’s chair in his own tattoo parlor by a bunch of Judah’s freaks, he was starting to wish he was back home. He jerked away as Curve leaned in, grasping the edge of the tape that covered his mouth, and ripping it off with a single, violent movement.

“Look,” Noah gasped, “what do you people want?”

“Oh, you know, a house in the country, a dog, a wife, two kids,” Curve grinned evilly, “your head, stapled to my saddlebags.”

“We’re looking for Sarah. Where is she, Noah?” Kali asked, shooting an unimpressed glare at Curve.

“I’m not gonna tell you that!”

“Oh, but I think you are.” Kali purred, sitting astride him, tattoo gun held menacingly in her hand. She nodded at Curve, who turned on the footswitch. “Last chance, love.” She said, holding his eye open with her fingers. Noah licked his lips. God, but he wished he didn’t know the answer to her question. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t end up giving Sarah away.

“Get bent,” he rasped out, “you dried-up bitch.”

Kali smirked, “Oh I was hoping you would say that.” She murmured, lowering the gun slowly towards his eye.

* * *

Sarah was off that day, and she, Ashe, and Grace spent the day in her apartment, going through her paintings and trading stories. It was nearly dark when Grace left, a timid smile on her face. Ashe smiled, looking at vanity again.

“I’ve been here.” He murmured, picking up a cheerful postcard of carnival midway. “I took Danny last summer. We went up on the bike, rode all the way up the coast.” He paused, voice cracking, “It was cold up there. I remember we could see each other’s breath.”

“Look at me.” Sarah said, approaching him as he curled in on himself, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Ashe, look at me.” He looked up at her, tears in his eyes. There was a moment, a breath, a tiny, fragile second where anything could happen.

“No.” He breathed, pulling away. “I-We can’t do this. I have to finish what I started. I have to find the others.”

“I know.”

He looked back at her, standing haloed in the evening light like a broken angel of mercy. “I wish….” he paused, swallowed, drinking in the sight of her, burning it into his memory, “I wish things had been different.” He rasped, grabbing his jacket, and heading out the door.

If she said anything in reply, he didn’t know. He was already at his bike, heading out to the docks. Danny was still there, and like hell was he leaving his son’s body to the river.

* * *

“Well, that was informative.” Kali smirked, as the exited the Gray Gargoyle. Curve suddenly hissed in pain, opening his jacket to look down at crow tattoo, now dripping blood from the beak and talons. “Something wrong?” Kali asked, turning towards him.

Curve didn’t answer, just uttered a curse, jumping on his bike and tearing off like all the devils in hell were after him.

Kali shrugged. “Looks like it’s just us, boys.” She grins, leading the way down the street.

* * *

Curve drove all the way to his favorite fetish club, a dark pit with black lights and mirrors, like a carnival fun-house of sin. He snorted an envelope of powder, trying to ignore the pain growing where the tattoo was.“goaway, goaway, goaway…” he muttered, the music swimming in and out of his ears, like drums beating in time with his own rapid pulse. His eyes drifted up to the mirror hanging above the bar and he froze, his blood like ice water.

The Crow fit in perfectly with the other patrons of the club, whose bodies writhed rhythmically around and against him, as if trying to leech off some of his morbid, dark angelic energy. He didn’t smile, just raised the sawed-off shotgun from the Peep-O-Rama and aimed. Curve dropped to the floor as the mirror shattered, raining glimmering shards down on top of him. The bartender and his boys opened fire to no avail. The Crow walked calmly after Curve’s frantic flight, bullets exploding on him until he looked like a human roman candle.

“Fuck this.” The bartender yelped, dropping his gun and running in the opposite direction. The Crow smirked as he stepped out the backdoor, watching in amusement as Curve took the steps three at a time, missed a step, bumped into two druggies and rolled half-way down the steps before getting his footing back. He jumped, landing on a parked car, right as Curve reached his bike. There’s terror in Curve’s eyes as Death slowly stalks closer.

“Time’s up, Curve.” The Crow drawled.

“Fuck you, bird-dick!” Curve shrieked, gunning the motor. He glanced behind him as he tore down the street, caught by the terrible realization that his life had just gotten dramatically shorter, even if he did somehow survive. The bird was still following him, and he had a feeling that meant that the man was still following as well. Distantly, over the roar of his engine, he thought he heard another engine, keeping pace with him. Out of no-where, a black shape dropped off the bridge behind him. The Crow was right there, roaring down the road on a black motorcycle. Curve banked abruptly, going through a small hole in the chain link fence, rocketing down the dark tunnel, the river cutting him off on the other side. He turned, trying to escape, but it was too late.

“ ** _I have a rendezvous with Death, on some scarred slope of battered hill…_** ” came the lilting voice from the other end of the tunnel.The Crow leaned casually against his bike, shotgun in hand, and bird on his shoulder. “ ** _God knows, 'twere better to be deep where love throbs out in blissful sleep, pulse nigh to pulse and breath to breath, but I have a rendezvous with Death, and I to my pledged word am true…_** ” He smirked, anguish hidden in his dark eyes as he thought of Sarah, **_“I shall not fail that rendezvous._** ”

“You think I’m afraid of you, you fucking freak?” Curve screamed, gunning the motor, “You think I’m afraid?” He aimed straight for the Crow, tearing down the tunnel as fast as he could. The Crow merely lifted the shotgun, taking aim at the custom-painted teardrop gas tank and pulled the trigger.

The bike disintegrated in fire beneath Curve, shrapnel flying everywhere. There was a jagged piece of steel embedded deep in Curve’s gut, and he laughed, thinking for one moment that he had won. Through the flames stepped a dark figure, and the laughter died in his mouth.

“Can you hear me, Curve?” The Crow asked, pleasantly, seemingly unconcerned with the flaming wreckage behind him. Curve gave a weak nod, mouth moving soundlessly. “You’re going to die now. Shhh.” He placed a cold finger on Curve’s lips. “People used to put coins in the mouths of the dead. Do you know why?” He tilted his head as Curve choked, “It was so they could pay the ferryman to take them across the river Styx. Ah, and what’s this?” He pulled a token from the Peep-O-Rama out from behind Curve’s ear in a twisted parody of the magic tricks he once did for his son. “Open your mouth, Curve.” He growled lowly.

Curve moaned in terror, his mouth opening to let the coin in.

“Shhh,” The Crow hushed gently, “ It’s not so bad. Trust me. I’ve been there.” There was nothing comforting in his words. Curve continued to moan lowly in terror as he was dragged down to the water by his jacket. “I want to thank you,” the Crow said, almost cheerfully, “for showing me my pain, Curve. You made me what I am.” He pulled Curve into the water, carrying him out to the middle of the rive. “Nothing personal, sport. Guess you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”His own words were parroted back to him as the Crow released him to the current. The world was growing darker. On the bank above him, figures in dark clothes and eerie masks looked down on him. Several women tossed marigold petals into the water. As the last breath left Curve’s lungs, he passed by a broken mirror lying under the overpass.

The petals had formed a crow around his body.


	5. Hush Little Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added note: Bold text is Ashe seeing through the crow's eyes.

**Bang!**

**“Let me go!”**

**Mocking laughter**

**A ripped painting**

“Sarah!” Ashe jumped on the bike, pushing it as fast as it would go back to Sarah’s apartment. The door was hanging off the hinges when he arrived, a giant hole where the lock had once been. “Sarah!” He shouted, running in. The vanity had been overturned, the Irony mask broken into pieces, paintings slashed. “Sarah!”

“Sarah’s not here, Ghost man.” Ashe spun, eyes fixed on Kali as she slid out of the shadows.

“Where is she?” He growled.

“Judah’s tower.” She said, playing with a broken doll’s head. “He’s waiting for you there.”

“You took my son’s life.” The Crow said in a conversational tone.

She smirked, a dark chuckle on her lips as she tossed the doll head aside. “Some people are born victims.”

“It takes two to make a murder.”

Kali grinned, drawing her blade. “Shall we dance?” She cried, swinging at him. He ducked under her blade, catching her arm and snapping it like it was nothing. She gasped, crying out as he threw her into the wall.

He picked up the doll head, cradling it against his chest in mockery of how one would hold a child. “Hush little baby, don’t say a word.” He sing-songed, dropping the doll head to the floor beside her as he bent, picking her up in his arms. “Kali’s going to see eternity.” He cried, throwing her out the window. She screamed as she fell, landing on the ground, her back snapping, blood quickly flooding into the street around her. She wasn’t dead yet, and she glared viciously at the Crow as he walked towards his bike.

“Finish it.” She hissed.

“I have finished it.” He grinned, “My job was to send you to hell. You will join your friends there soon enough. For now, you must wait there…unable to move.”

“There’s no...honor in this. My death...I’ve earned it!” She gasped.

He looked at her as if she was something particularly foul on the bottom of his boot. “Killing children?” He asked, turning away from her. She shouted after him, wasting her breath on useless curses as he revved the engine, and headed towards the Tower. The blood around her made a perfect crow.

* * *

Sarah’s eyes drifted open, a dark dream on her tongue as she slowly sat up. There was a leather collar around her neck, a padlock holding it closed and attaching it to a chain. She tugged it experimentally, huffing as she found it to be solid. Turning around, she noticed a cowled figure.

“Where am I?” She asked.

“The Tower.” Sybil murmured, “Everyone finds their way here eventually.” Sarah moved towards her, only to jump back in shock as she raised her head, revealing her blinded eyes.

“What happened to you?”

“Fate happened to her,” A low, rumbling voice came from the shadows. As she spun, Judah melted out of the shadows, as if he belonged to them. “Sybil’s been cursed with the gift of prophecy. She sees things that are fated to happen.” He smirked, “She cut her eyes out with a carving knife because she wanted to make the visions stop, but that only made the visions stronger, didn’t it, my dear?” He asked, running his fingers along her cheek.

Sybil turned her head, shunning his touch as much as she could. “I’ve learned to live with my affliction.”

“Hmm, Don’t we all?” He chuckled darkly, turning back to Sarah, who watched him with wary disgust.

“Judah Earl.” She spat.

He grinned. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

“I’ve seen what your drugs have done to this city.”

He shrugged. “ I saw a need, I exploited it. It’s all economics, Sarah. Supply and demand.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I’m glad you asked that, Sarah. You’ve got an important part to play in this little drama of ours. You see, I intend to capture the Crow….” He carved a cross onto her forehead with a jagged fingernail. “And you, my dear, are the bird seed.”

She stared at him in horror. “Why are you doing this?”

“Have you ever read Dante's Inferno? It says that the only true path through Hell lies at its center. If you want to escape it -- you have to go further in.” He draped himself elegantly over his throne. “When I was a boy I fell through the ice of a lake. I remember seeing the sky through the ice above me, close enough to touch.The world grew cold around me. Dark. Eventually my heart stopped beating. And in that moment, I died.” He waved a hand carelessly, “I woke up half an hour later on an operating table. I had returned to the world of flesh and bone...but I brought a knowledge back with me….forbidden knowledge. I’ve been living on borrowed time ever since. I’ve always known Death would be coming for me. I see now that your friend is the one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Death comes for everyone. You can’t stop him.” She spat.

“You’re wrong, Sarah.” He said, playing with the padlock on her collar, “There is a way to defeat Death...and that’s to trade places with him.”

Sybil turned her head to the east.

“The Crow is coming,”

* * *

Ashe hurtled down the road, the crow flying towards the Tower as he drove. Sarah had been taken by Judah Earl.

_Judah’s orders._

That was what Nemo had said, as if to excuse his actions. The fire burning in Ashe’s chest exploded into an inferno of rage and grief. This creature had taken his son, and now it had taken Sarah. The crow flew by a broken neon sign. It had once said “Jesus Saves.” but half the letters had gone out, leaving it to read “Save us” instead. He smirked as the crow entered the tower. Nothing could save Judah Earl now. He followed, only to find his way blocked by a street fiesta for Dia de los Muertos. With a disgusted growl, he ditched the bike, shoving through the crowd and scaling the Tower.

He was going to kill Judah and save Sarah.

Nothing was going to stop him.

* * *

The crow sat on the rafters, looking down at Sarah. Crows are smart birds, and these particular crows even more so. He knew a trap when he saw one. Just who did this Judah fellow think he was? He wasn’t the first man to kill a crow, to try and escape death. He shook his head, fluffing his feathers. If a bird could smile, this one would have been wearing a Cheshire cat grin as he looked down. The girl was sitting against the pillar she was chained to, eyes slowly scanning the rafters looking for him. All this time, and she still hadn’t figured it out. Priceless. Oh, Judah Earl would get his 5 minutes of power, but this, this was worth dying a second time for.

He glided down gently, taking his time to let the kid get closer. If he timed this just right, they could really throw this fucker off. Landing with a slight rustle of feathers, he croaked hoarsely at Sarah, getting her attention.

“Go, please go. Shoo.” She waved the chain at him. If he’d been a normal bird, she might have actually succeeded. Instead, he just tilted his head, puffing up a bit as, with a whoosh! a cage was dropped on top of him.

“Look who’s come home to roost.” Judah crowed, stepping out of the shadows and grabbing the top of the cage. The crow laughed at him, the sound coming across as indignant caws as the cage was sat on top of a table by the portal.

Judah pulled out a velvet bundle, laying them on the table next to the cage and unwrapping it to reveal several long, thin daggers. “Do you know what these are called?” He asked Sarah, over the crow’s hoarse laughter, “Misericords. Wonderful name, isn’t it?” He asked, turning one of the daggers, first one way, then the next. “In the Dark Ages, these were used to deliver the death stroke to the mortally wounded. They were considered tools of mercy.”

He pulled on a leather falconers glove and reached into the cage to grab the crow. The crow struggled valiantly, laughing the entire time. This was going to suck, but oh the laughs he’d get out of this.

Judah grabbed him by the throat, just under his head and held him firmly against the portal. It showed the outside roof of the tower, and all around it swirled dark clouds and a dark, inky murder of crows. Judah didn’t see the crows, though, just the one, held flush to the portal.

“Ashe is here.” Sybil murmured, hand stretched out, towards the world below.

Judah smirked. “Not for long.” He raised the misericord in his hand high, driving it into the crow’s right wing. Another misericord was raised, and driven into his other wing. He took one more misericord in hand, staring triumphantly down at the pinned bird, not realizing that the crow was staring victoriously back at him.

“ ** _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down_** ” He said and drove the dagger down, through the heart. Blood poured out of the crow, drenching the portal, blotting out the clouds and the murder of crows that swirled above. For a moment, Judah stood, staring at the scene before him, as if realizing the mistake he had made.

“It’s done.” He murmured, a slow, evil smile stretching across his face. He dipped his fingers into the blood, painting his face with it in a wicked mockery of the Irony mask. In front of Sarah’s horrified eyes, he scooped the blood up in his cupped palm, and drank. He smirked, hellfire dancing in his eyes, a dark laugh rumbling up from his chest as he turned and swept out of the tower.

He had a man to kill.


	6. Do Not Stand by my Grave and Weep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Final Chapter! And where I did the most work....please, be gentle!

Ashe glared up at the tower from where he had fallen. He had stabbed himself in both hands trying to keep his footing, clung to a statue of a woman for a moment, thinking he had finally managed it, only to find himself plummeting six stories to the ground below. He’d survived, though he was bloody and sore, but it was still annoying. The fact that his wounds were healing slower bothered him a little, but with how close he was to finishing it, he really wasn’t all that worried. He was, however, tired of being stared at by the masked figures hovering at the edge of the cart he had fallen on. One of the children pushed to the front, lifting up his skeleton mask and Ashe’s heart skipped.

“Danny?” He murmured, rolling over and slowly pulling himself to his feet.

“Hurry up, Dad.” Danny called, “You’re almost finished. You can’t give up now.”

He smiled, “I’m coming, Danny. Just one more.” Danny smiled, dashing back into the crowd with a laugh.

“Tell me, Ashe” a rumbling voice made him spin, “do you ever get the feeling we’re all dead men on leave?”

“Judah.” He snarled, glaring at the dark man with his face still streaked with wet blood.

“In the flesh.” He replied, flinging Ashe backwards. Ashe snarled, pulling Curve’s gun out of his coat and firing it three times into Judah’s chest. Judah just grinned.

“What are you?” Ashe asked, dumbfounded.

“I’m your shadow, Ashe. Every angel’s got a devil. Didn’t you know that? Or maybe you just slept your way through Sunday school?” Judah lashed out at him, beating Ashe back.

“What did you do?” Ashe choked out.

“I’ve tasted the blood of the crow and taken your power.” He grinned manically, “You’re flesh and blood now, Ashe. You can die like any other man.”

“Go to hell.” Ashe spat, grappling with the larger man.

”Already been there. And I must confess, I liked what I saw.” He wrapped the rope around Ashe’s neck, tossing it over a beam and hoisting him up in the air.

* * *

Sarah hugged her knees, eyes flickering everywhere but where the dead crow lay pinned to the portal. Her eyes caught sight of Sybil moving closer to her.

“What are you doing?” She asked, as the other woman pulled the key to the padlock out of her robe. “Why are you doing this?”

“Ashe needs you.” Sybil sighed, “And I want to go home. If he can remember the true source of his power, he can destroy Judah, forever. Then I can go home, home to my daughter, Grace.” She smiled sadly, handing Sarah one of the misericords. “Save Ashe, and then stay behind him.”Sarah nodded, taking the dagger in hand.

“I will.”

Sybil smiled as the sounds of Sarah’s dash to the street faded away.

* * *

“Looks like the Dead have forsaken you, my friend!” Judah grinned. “Look at you, bleeding like a stuck pig. Where’s you precious strength? Where’s your power? You’re nothing now, Ashe, not even a ghost!” He turned to the crowd. “You want Death?” He cried to the cheering crowd, “Here he is, people. Take a good look! If you prick him, does he not bleed?” Judah cried, picking up a heavy metal pole and swinging it at Ashe, like a pinata.

“Get away from him!” A voice rang out. Judah turned just as Sarah reached him, driving the misericord deep into his head through his eye. She quickly darted away from him, untying the rope that Ashe was dangling from, allowing him to drop to the pavement. He gasped for breath as she attempted to help him to his feet.

“You have to remember,” She whispered to him, eyes trained warily on Judah. “You have to remember the true source of your power.”

Ashe nodded in understanding.

Judah turned, pulling the misericord out of his eye and catching site of Sarah’s back, and the crow wings tattooed there. As Ashe stood to his feet, Sarah hovering just behind him, Judah knew. He may have killed a crow, but it wasn’t the right crow.

The mood of the crowd around them had changed, no longer frenzied revelry, but now somber witness. High above, the murder of crows began to descend slowly.

Fueled by righteous rage, Ashe charges forward, impaling Judah through the chest on a metal scaffold pipe. Judah laughed hysterically.

“You can’t stop me anymore, Ashe. And I will kill her, Ashe, someday, I will kill her! You don’t have the power to stop me anymore.”

“If it were just me,” Ashe grinned ferally, “you’d be right, Judah. But I have an eternity of pain to call upon, and that pain gives me strength.” He raised his bleeding hands and Judah watched as the wounds closed. Pinned to the scaffolding like a butterfly, Judah watched as Ashe made a fist, his thumb sticking out to the side. The Crow grinned as he turned his thumb down and the murder descended upon Judah.

The energy seemed to drain out of Ashe as Judah was torn apart, Sarah’s small frame coming to support him on one side, Sybil coming to support him on the other side. Together, the two of them managed to help him stagger to Sarah’s car. 

“Mom?” Sybil turned sharply at the voice.

“Gracie?” She asked, tremulously, sightless eyes turned towards the voice. 

“Mom!” A small, compact form barreled into Sybil, almost knocking her down. “Sarah? Ashe? What’s wrong with Ashe? Mom?” 

Sybil smiled sadly, “Shh, it’s okay, dear, I’ll explain everything.” 

“Grace, take your mother to my apartment.” Sarah told her, setting Ashe into the passenger seat of her car. “It’ll need to be cleaned up some, but it should be safe enough for now.” 

“Okay. We’ll try to get it fixed up some until you get back.” Grace nodded, “Oh! And I’ve got Gabriel!” 

“Thanks, Grace.” Sarah called back to her, even as she stepped on the gas.

* * *

It was a struggle to get Ashe up the hill to the cross that marked the grave he had dug for Danny mere hours ago, but somehow they managed to get up the dew soaked grass to the top. A second cross stood next to it, in front of an empty grave, a crow perched on top of it. 

“This must be the crow that held you to life, not the one Judah killed.” Sarah murmured, helping Ashe to sit down next to Danny’s cross.

“No,” Ashe shook his head, “you were, Sarah.”

She stared at him, eyes wide. Ashe smiled, his hand slipping off her shoulder to trace the feathers on her tattoo blindly. “You were the crow that held me to life... ** _But I have a rendezvous with Death...God knows, 'twere better to be deep where love throbs out in blissful sleep, pulse nigh to pulse and breath to breath, but I have a rendezvous with Death, and I to my pledged word am true…_** ” A tear streaked down his cheek as he cupped her face, a sad smile on his lips,” ** _I shall not fail that rendezvous_**.” 

Tears began to flow down her cheek, and he drew her against his chest, murmuring gently into her hair. She pulled Shelly Webster’s engagement ring off the chain around her neck and slid it onto the smallest finger of his left hand. 

“Listen,” She murmured softly to him, as his breathing began to slow, “if two people really love each other, nothing can keep them apart. Nothing.” 

“I’ll be sure to remember that. And I’ll wait for you, for as long as it takes.” He whispered back. 

Perched in the trees above them, the crows watched as Ashe finally went to his rest, his arms falling limply away from Sarah. 

She sat back, eyes trained on his still figure. His coat was still in her car, and part of her felt like she should bury him with it, but she couldn’t bear to let it go. Her hands traced his face one last time, and with a sad smile, she pushed his body into the grave next to his son’s. It was several hours before she finally trudged wearily back to her car. 

Ashe’s jacket was still draped forlornly over the passenger seat. She hesitated a moment before swinging it on, wrapping it tightly around her, ignoring the bullet holes and muck as she slid into the driver’s seat. There was a blind oracle, her daughter, and a fluffy white cat waiting for her at home. 

Maybe they would like to leave Los Angeles with her, go north, up the coast. Someplace where it was so cold they could see each other’s breath. 

 

* * *

Six months later, the investigation into the separate murders of Alex “Nemo” McDowell and Noah Clarke, and the subsequent murders of Noah’s killers, John “Curve” Dewalt and Elizabeth “Kali” Nguyen was closed. Judah Earl’s death was reported as death-by-illegal-exotic-pet, and no one ever found enough of Jesus “Spidermonkey” Suarez to even try making a case. 

Sarah Mohr and Sybil Weaver were never even considered suspects. Noah had left his entire life’s savings to Sarah, and she used it to move to Aberdeen, Washington and open her own tattoo parlor. Sybil and Grace moved with her, and the three of them bought a small house that had a view of the water, when it wasn’t too foggy. Grace went back to school, Sybil got a seeing eye dog, and Gabriel the cat got fat. 

Sarah wore Ashe’s coat everyday until she died, and there was always a crow or four perched outside her house. 

**_ There’s little joy in life for me,  _ **

**_ And little terror in the grave; _ **

**_ I’ve lived the parting hour to see  _ **

**_ Of one I would have died to save. _ **


End file.
